Sweat
by Ninjabelle
Summary: “You and I... how will this work” Marik didn’t bother opening his eyes before whispering “It doesn’t work... that’s why it works... and if you can understand that, my dear Bakura, then we shall do just fine…” Psychoshipping One-shot rated M for Yaoiness.


**A/N**

**Psychoshipping one-shot!**

**I just needed to write this down, one night this little scene just came to me.**

**From above. ****He he, no… not really. XD**

"No… don't think... don't do it."

He yanked his hair down roughly and claimed his mouth for yet another kiss.

Their intercourse wasn't forceful. It was all Bakura had ever desired and as soon as it started Bakura wanted nothing more than for it to continue forever.

So good...

But, as he had learned at a very early age, all good things come to an end and before he knew it they were just laying next to each other, panting, sweating.

the damp blanket barely covering their bodies.

Bakura felt sick. He had slept with none other than Marik. Standing up he quickly putted his pants back on and moving to the window his shaky hands turned into fists.

"Come back here... you really don't want to leave this bed"

"I do" he spoke breathlessly. "You should leave, this isn't right"

Marik grinned widely from his position on the bed. "Nope... don't really feel much like leaving this bed... its cold outside, you know?"

Bakura felt dizzy.

"Why did this happen…" it was own thought carelessly spoken out loud.

But Marik answered the unintended question anyway.

"Because you finally allowed it to. You gave me an opportunity and I, gladly, took it"

There was a pause, and nothing besides the far away sound of cars rushing thought the streets was heard.

Bakura felt something touching his hand. He pulled it away and turned around to find Marik reaching for him from the old mattress, the blanket slipped away completely leaving his sinfully beautiful body painfully exposed.

Bakura would have cried at that moment, if it hadn't been for the fact that he had ran out of tears a long time ago.

Why cry?

Maybe because it was all so overwhelming.

Love.

Marik's touch was only for him, the tenderness of it feeling almost brutal even though not so intended.

It hurt. So bad.

It was hurting Bakura because Marik hadn't been trying to hurt him.

He had made love to him and that was something Bakura couldn't cope with. Marik soft touch felt like a thousand knives piercing his skin. And his kisses... they felt as if death itself touched his bruised lips.

And Marik would, in the end, undeniably become the reason of Bakura's death.

He would die because those touches stripped him of all defense, he couldn't resist them.

That made him weak, and weakness, one way or another always ended up as death.

"Just kill me now, don't make it a torturous ritual. I've been tortured enough in my days Marik. Don't do this"

'Hush... you think too much."

Marik's fingertips on his lips were succeeding in keeping him quiet. How strange, or maybe not even so. A part of Marik's body was connecting with a part of his own. For a reason too strange to comprehend that somehow always ended up freezing Bakura's defense, as well as his sanity, or what little was left of it these days.

He allowed Marik to pull his body back on top of him, to undress him again and to slowly destroy that last bit of what he used to stand for, again and again.

Over and over until Marik's own body finally became too exhausted itself and he fell into a deep, calm slumber.

And Bakura... he just stared out of the window.

He looked at the city lights in the distance, and listened to the sounds the early morning brought.

He didn't move. He just laid there, taking it all in.

And then he smiled.

It was as it always should have been. The tables turned finally.

Marik had destroyed him. Had broken him beyond repair.

But he was thankful.

For the end had never truly meant anything so significant to Bakura.

After one end came a new beginning and if that beginning led him to yet another ending a new start would always be made from there.

So this new start would be interesting.

Bakura and Marik... maybe it could work.

Only the gods knew, but Bakura was satisfied.

After all, if Marik had been capable of breaking him, would he not be just as capable of other things?

Things equally powerful? he probably would.

Bakura turned to his side, facing the slumbering form of Marik.

"So…" his whisper was soft, but by the way the corner of Marik's mouth curled upwards ever so slightly Bakura knew he had been heard.

"You and I... how will this work"

Marik didn't bother opening his eyes before whispering "It doesn't work... that's why it works... and if you can understand that, my dear Bakura, then we shall do just fine…"

Bakura slowly nodded.

"I understand."

And so a silent promise was made.

And a relationship that had been existing for centuries finally evolved.

Both men had acknowledged each other, and from now on things would only get better.

Both had seen the darkest of days, and maybe that made them connected in a way understandable. But the fact that both were a force of nature promised their story never to be an uninteresting one. They both knew that.

It could never work, that is why it worked.

Their love was a logic nonexistent, and therefore a chance too unique to be left untaken.

_Fin_

**A/N**

**Wow, that was pretty intense, and maybe it doesn't make too much sense to most people, but when inspiration strikes , what can you do? I could just see this happening, and I changed nothing besides a few typos in my original file. So it's just RAW inspiration you've been reading. XD**

**Review? Please?**


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